


Here's To Us

by dementorsatemysoup



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Disaster Lesbian Beau, Eventual Fluff, F/F, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Mechanic Yasha, probably
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-20
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-07-13 06:24:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16012127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dementorsatemysoup/pseuds/dementorsatemysoup
Summary: When Yasha decided to open up a mechanic shop she never imagined her biggest problem would be a blunt (yet attractive) Beau randomly showing up at her garage claiming maintenance problems on a bike that does not seem to have anything wrong with it. Yasha is more than a little confused.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The tags will change depending on where this story goes (as will the ships with the exception of BeauYasha because that's happening regardless). I honestly have no idea where this story is going, but I made this post on Tumblr a while ago and the idea has been bugging me ever since, so here we are.  
> Thank you for reading, drop me a comment if you get the chance, and I will try to have a new chapter by the weekend :)
> 
> The title is from a Halestorm song

Beau didn't exactly look at her phone when she'd been rudely woken up, but the sun is barely above the horizon so it's definitely too early. She still smells like last night and the last thing she wants to do is deal with whoever decided to knock at her door at the asscrack of dawn, but here she is, stumbling down the hall, cursing at herself when she trips over one of her running shoes. She yanks the door open, glares at the person standing in the threshold, and demands, "What?"

"Beauregard, I see you're as pleasant as ever," Dairon says with a barely concealed smirk and Beau manages to straighten up slightly, gripping the door, debating whether or not to slam it. It's too early for this bullshit.

"Did my dad send you?"

"Your father has no idea I am here," Dairon responds, looking around Beau and raising an eyebrow. "You have company."

"What?" Beau turns, watching as Keg hurries into the bathroom, and she turns back to Dairon. "She's just leaving."

"I'm just leaving!" Keg calls from the bathroom and Beau snorts.

"She seems delightful."

Beau narrows her eyes. "What do you want?"

Dairon sighs, looking up at the sky, almost as if she's convincing herself to stay. Finally, she looks back at Beau and says, "I need a favor."

Beau's mouth falls open in shock and she clutches her chest. "You? You need a favor? You?"

Dairon grits her teeth. "Yes."

"This is, this is golden. I mean, you need a favor from me? From me?"

"We've established this, Beauregard."

Beau holds out her hand, grinning. "Wait, wait, wait. I wanna remember this moment. Dairon needs a favor from me."

Dairon turns to leave. "Forget it."

"Wait, no." Beau reaches out, grabbing her arm, stopping her. "Sorry. What's your favor?"

Dairon takes a controlled breath before turning to face Beau. She shrugs off her hand, crossing her arms tightly against her chest, and says, "I am leaving the country for a few months for work. My lease is up on my apartment and I no longer have access to the garage to store my motorcycle."

"You mean the one you won't let me drive?"

"The very same. I need-" Dairon trails off, looking like she's going to regret this, but continues anyway, "I need someone to store my bike until I get back and since you have a decent sized garage..."

Flabbergasted, Beau says, "You want me to do what now?"

Dairon sighs, shaking her head. "It's not like I'm asking you to store a body."

"I need my garage," Beau argues weakly, already imaging herself taking Dairon's bike on a joyride. She could dig out her leather jacket, and finally put those cool sunglasses to good use that she stole from Fjord. She's into this idea, but she also doesn't want someone else's crap in her garage.

Dairon scoffs. "For what? You barely use half of it." She very nearly rolls her eyes, her lip curling in annoyance. "Believe me, if I had any other options I wouldn't be asking you." It has to be causing her some major emotional pain, asking Beau of all people for a favor.

"So, I'm not even your first choice..." Beau barely holds back a grin when Dairon scoffs in annoyance; giving her a hard time is one of Beau's few favorite past times.

"Beauregard..."

With an exaggerated sigh, Beau says, "Fine, I'll store your stupid motorcycle."

"I'll bring it by this afternoon before leaving for the airport."

Dairon turns to leave but stops when Beau calls her name. "Why are you here so early?"

"Some of us actually get up before noon, Beauregard." Dairon smirks at the dirty look Beau gives her and walks away, her hips swaying back and forth.

"Old girlfriend?" Keg asks, popping up behind Beau.

"Gods, I wish," Beau murmurs wishfully, closing her front door. She turns to face Keg, giving her an awkward smile. "So..."

"Last night was fun." Keg clutches her coat in her hands, her eyes darting towards the front door. "I really should go before your roommate wakes up."

"Jester?" Beau waves her hand, making an unconcerned noise. "She'll be fine. Her mom is some famous lady of the night or whatever. She's seen worse than the walk of shame."

"Is that what this is? A walk of shame?"

"Isn't it?"

Keg gives Beau a small smile, shaking her head. "Nah, I've had worse. I have been married you know."

Beau makes a face. "Marriage."

"Scary stuff." Keg reaches around Beau, pulling the door open. "It was nice meeting you, Beau."

"Likewise. If you're ever in town again..." Beau gestures between the two of them, raising her eyebrows.

"We'll see."

When Keg is gone, Beau walks back to her room, falling face first onto her unmade bed. She's on the edge of sleep when Jester pokes her head into her bedroom and says, "It smells like sex in here."

"Does it?" Beau sniffs her sheets and shrugs. "Could be worse." She sits up, rubbing her messy hair, and looks blearily at Jester. "You up for waffles?"

"Fuck yes." She hurries out of the room, calling over her shoulder, "Should I call Fjord?"

"Why not? It'll be funny."

After a quick shower and a few experimental sniffs of some questionable tank tops, Beau follows Jester out of their house, filling her in on Dairon's visit.

"How long will it be in the garage?" Jester asks, accepting the helmet Beau hands her.

"A few months." Beau looks around their mostly empty garage. Aside from some scattered art supplies and her exercise equipment, the only things really in the garage are Beau's blue Vespa and Jester's pink Schwinn. There's plenty of room for Dairon's bike. "Is that a problem? I probably should have asked you first before agreeing. This is technically your house."

Jester shakes her head. "It's our house and I don't mind. Maybe we can start a motorcycle gang." Her eyes widen and she claps her hand. "We can get matching pink jackets and, and we can ask the new girl from my work, Cali, to join." As she continues describing her dream motorcycle gang, Beau makes sure Jester's helmet is secure before getting on her Vespa. She puts her own helmet on, nodding along to Jester's chatter, and slowly backs the scooter out of their garage with her feet.

By the time they get to the diner, Fjord is leaning against his pickup, head tilted back, eyes closed, arms crossed. He picks his head up when he hears them approach, uncrossing his arms, and grunts in greeting. Beau grunts back, thumping her chest with her fist, and Fjord scowls.

"Smartass."

"Hello Fjord," Jester exclaims, jumping off the back of Beau's scooter. "I see you're looking as handsome as ever today."

A faint blush creeps across Fjord's cheeks and he says, "Thank you, Jester."

She beams, skipping inside, and Beau sidles up to him, grinning. "Yeah, Fjord, so handsome." She pinches his cheek, snorting when he grumbles at her, and leads him inside.

* * *

Yasha hesitates, key hovering over the lock. She turns back to Molly, who is waiting patiently behind her, and worriedly asks, "What if no one shows up?"

He gives her a kind smile, patting her shoulder. "You give yourself too little credit. This town looks like it needs a mechanic."

"How do you know?"

Molly winks at her. "I just know."

Yasha lets out a slow breath, nodding. "Okay." She unlocks the door, stepping into the shop she and Molly have been slowly renovating for the past six months, breathing in the scent of fresh paint. Molly wanted splashes of color in the lobby, Yasha wanted the walls white, so they compromised. Three of the four walls are a bright white, the fourth a dark blue. He told her it's called a feature wall; she has to admit it looks nice.

The counter is bright green, clashing with the bright pink chair behind it, but Molly wouldn't budge on the colors for his space. The doors to the bathrooms, stained mahogany, heavy as shit, propped open with door stoppers, have identical signs taped to them that say,  _"Use whichever room you want as long as you wash your hands,_ " written in loopy, orange letters. The chairs against the wall, meant for customers who are waiting for their cars, are all different colors, along with the freshly painted coffee table, littered with magazines Molly managed to dig up from their attic. Yasha is pretty sure all of them date back to 1995, but she hasn't asked and Molly hasn't said anything.

It probably doesn't seem professional to most mechanics, but Yasha has to remind herself that most mechanics don't have Mollymauk Tealeaf as their friend. She also has to remind herself that this shop is hers and she doesn't give a shit what most mechanics think. This works for her and that's all that matters.

"Okay, where do we put this?" Molly asks, gently bumping her out of the way with his hip, dragging in a giant ficus he bought the other day.

"Anywhere, I guess," Yasha responds, gesturing to the open space. She follows him, watching as he moves the plant around the room, making dissatisfied noises whenever he finds a new spot. He finally settles on a spot by the door, but Yasha knows he'll move it ten more times today.

He moves to sit behind his desk, folding his hands in front of him, and stares at her with an encouraging smiles. He gestures to the sign hanging up in the window and says, "Ready when you are."

Yasha lets out a slow breath and nods, turning to plug the open sign in. She steps back, crossing her arms, and says, "I hope someone shows up."

"They will."

Yasha looks back at Molly, nodding frantically, and moves to perch on the edge of his desk. She stares anxiously at the door for a long moment before looking down at him and asking, "Where did you go yesterday? When you went on your walk?"

Molly lets loose a long, suffering sigh and says, "Where do you think?"

"Not again." Yasha gives him a sympathetic smile. "Did he even notice you this time?"

Sighing again, Molly slumps in his chair and shakes his head. "Do you think I tried too hard when he first moved in? I wasn't being serious when I told him I'd move in to help him get settled. That had been a joke. Do you think he understood it was a joke?"

"I mean-" Yasha trails off, shrugging noncommittally. "It was a bit... much."

With a faux-affronted look, Molly puts a hand to his chest. "Et tu, Yasha." He leans back dramatically, resting the back of his other hand against his forehead, and cries, "You wound me! After all these years and you choose now to tell me that I am a bit much."

"You are being dramatic," Yasha says, shaking her head and fighting a smile, heading towards the back. "Call me when we get a customer."

"I will never forget this!"

"Drama Queen!"

"You're damn right I am!" Yasha hears the phone ring (her stomach swooping with nerves and anticipation) and she snorts softly when Molly answers, "Nydoorin Motors, your resident Drama Queen speaking. How may I help you?"

They're a very professional business.

* * *

"Frumpkin," Caleb calls, crawling around in a bush. "Frumpkin, come here. Come here, please." He makes a chirping sound, reaching for his cat, but he backs further into the bushes. "Oh, come on. Why are you...?" he trails off, muttering in Zemnian. "I have to pick Nott up in twenty minutes. Please, Frumpkin." Frumpkin humphs at him, backing even further into the bushes, and Caleb lets out a frustrated breath. This is not how he wanted to spend his Saturday afternoon.

"What are you doin'?"

Startled, Caleb looks up from the bush, his face flushing when he sees a rather handsome man warily staring at him, his eyes narrowed suspiciously. Slowly, he backs out of the bush, scratching his arm on a branch, and sits back on his heels, rubbing the back of his head. "Uh, my cat. He, he's not used to being outside and he..." Caleb trails off, sighing. "Do you live here? I am sorry, I didn't know anyone was home. I would have knocked..."

The man stares at him for a few more seconds before shaking his head. "Nah, my friends do, but it is kinda weird seein' some strange dude crawlin' around their bushes."

"It is," Caleb agrees, standing up slowly. "I am, I am so sorry."

The guy's face softens and he gestures to the bush. "You said something about your cat?"

"Ja, ja Frumpkin. He ran outside when I was taking out the trash and I've been trying to get him out of your friends' bushes ever since." Caleb crouches down, chirping at the bush again, clicking his fingers. "He seems to like this bush for some reason."

The guy kneels next to Caleb, peering into the bush, jumping back with a cry of surprise when Frumpkin springs at him, running full sprint across the yard. Caleb jumps up, the guy following him, and the two begin chasing the cat.

"He's a fast fucker," the guy pants when Caleb manages to catch the cat, holding his squirming body to his chest.

"J-ja," Caleb responds, breathing heavily. He wipes sweat off his forehead with his free hand, offering the guy a grateful smile. "Thank you for helping me."

"No worries, man." The guy looks over his shoulder and asks, "You new to the neighborhood?"

"My friend Nott and I moved in last week." Caleb gestures to a small, one story bungalow a few houses down from their current location. "We haven't, we haven't had time to meet anyone." It's a bit of a lie. He and Nott have had time, but neither one have been able to pluck up the courage to actually try and meet the neighbors. "In fact, you are the second person I've met in this neighborhood."

The first had been a overly pushy man named Mollymauk. He'd made a comment about helping Caleb get settled into the neighborhood by moving in with him, and while it'd obviously been a joke Caleb hadn't found it nearly as funny as Mollymauk had. Since meeting him, Caleb has noticed him walk by his house several times, lingering near the mailbox, almost expecting Caleb to come outside. So far, he's taken to hiding in the bathroom whenever he spots Mollymauk walking down the sidewalk.

"Well, it's nice to meet you. I'm Fjord."

"Caleb."

Fjord gives him a sheepish grin. "I have to confess, I don't exactly live in this neighborhood. So, you've only really met one of the neighbors."

"Well, between you and me," Caleb begins in a conspiratorial whisper, "I prefer you." Frumpkin starts squirming again and Caleb lets out a soft sigh. "That's my queue to head home. It was nice to meet you, Fjord."

"You as well, Caleb."

"Goodbye." Caleb hurries across the street, checking his watch. Nott will expect him soon; he needs to hurry.

* * *

"Do you think I look cool?" Beau asks, sitting on Dairon's bike, ignoring her parting words. Mostly. Dairon told her not to ride it, she didn't say anything about sitting on it. That's a failing on her part and Beau can't be held responsible for being curious.

"You look really cool," Jester says with a grin, taking another picture of Beau. "Like, really, really cool."

"How cool? Like on a scale of 1 to 10? 1 being Fjord dancing and 10 being, like, taking out three guys with a single roundhouse kick."

"Remember when Fjord told you not to back flip into the pool from Bryce's trampoline but you did it anyway?"

"Yeah, yeah that was pretty fucking cool."

"This is even better."

"Sweet."

Jester takes another picture, nodding in appreciation. "This one is going on Instagram."

"Lemme see." Beau scrambles off the bike, hurrying to Jester's side, looking at the photo. "Oh, fuck yeah. Put it on Facebook, too, and tag me. Definitely tag me. Tag me twice. I want everyone to see how fucking cool I look." And she does look cool. She dug out her light blue leather jacket that she stole from an ex-girlfriend years ago, and she's wearing those sunglasses Fjord still hasn't found. She has never looked cooler in her life.

 _Dairon, eat your heart out,_ Beau thinks with a smug smile.

Her smile slips off her face when she hears a crash. Beau whirls around, heart stilling in her chest when she sees Dairon's bike laying on its side.

"Oh fuck, fuck, fuck." Beau and Jester hurry forward and together (mostly Jester) they manage to get it back on its kickstand. Beau searches frantically for any damage, breathing a sigh of relief when she doesn't find any. "Oh thank the fucking gods. That was so fucking close." She reaches out, resting her hand against the bike, her legs wobbling a little, and she lets out a shaky breath. "That would have sucked."

"Yeah."

Beau slowly back away from the bike, watching it cautiously, both of her hands in the air. "Maybe Dairon is right. I should just leave it alone."

Jester nods. "I think you're right."

"Let's just, you know, go back inside. Watch some TV. Not touch the bike again."

"Okay."

Beau and Jester leave the garage, slow and steady, neither one breathing. The moment they're outside, Beau shuts the door and leans against it, letting out a soft breath. "Okay, I think we're good now."

She hears something snap followed by a sickening crunch and she flings the door open, letting out a hoarse cry when she sees Jester's Schwinn resting on top of Dairon's bike. There's a deep gouge down the side, the windshield is busted, and one of the mirrors is in pieces on the floor.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"I think that's seven years of bad luck, Beau." Beau gives Jester an exasperated look and she shrugs. "What? It is."

"Dairon is going to kill me."

"I'm sure she'll understand. My bike did this, so it's not your fault." Jester chews on her lip uncertainly, watching Beau worriedly. "I'm sure it'll be fine."

"Yeah. Yeah, yeah, yeah," Beau replies, nodding a lot, failing to convince herself. "Totally fine."

"Do want me to look up a mechanic?"

"Please."

"Okay, okay, okay." Jester pulls her phone from her pocket, checking the web for any local mechanics, making a triumphant sound when she finds one close by. "They just opened, too. That's fortunate."

"Gimme the number. I'll see if they have an opening. And then call Fjord, see if we can use his truck."

"Okay." Jester rattles off the number, and Beau nods, punching it into her phone.

She walks away from Jester as she calls Fjord, listening to the phone ringing. It rings twice before someone answers, "Nydoorin Motors, The Queen of Drama and Flair speaking. How may I help you?"

Taken aback, Beau says, "Are you open?"

"I wouldn't be answering the phone if we weren't, sweetie," the voice retorts coolly.

"Sweetie?" Beau reminds herself that she has a broken motorcycle that needs attention and pushes her irritation to the back of her mind for now. "Look, dude, I have a fucked up motorcycle and just wanted to know if I could bring it in? Now preferably."

"Let me check the calendar. We might not have an opening... HEY!"

A new voice comes over the line, gruff and frustrated, but Beau can't tell if it's directed at her or the 'Queen of Drama and Flair.' "Can I help you?"

"Uh, yeah, my friend's bike is fucked and I need to fix it."

"Bring it on in, I'll have a look."

"Thanks."

Beau gets the address and hangs up, turning to see Jester finishing her conversation with Fjord. She holds her phone up and says, "We sure about these people, Jester?"

Jester shrugs. "We could go to the mechanic a few towns over, but Fjord said they ripped him off last time."

With a defeated sigh, Beau nods. "Alright, I guess we'll go to these people."

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This would have been done last night, but I got tired.
> 
> Thank you to those who read and commented last chapter, you are all awesome, and drop me another comment if you can. Thanks for reading and I'll try to update as soon as I possibly can :)

“Explain to me how this happened again,” Fjord says curiously, one hand gripping his pickup’s steering wheel, the other resting on his open window. He has an amused look on his face, and Beau kind of wants to reach over Jester and thump him in the forehead.

“My bike fell off it’s rack,” Jester explains, fiddling with Fjord’s radio.

“I told ya that rack wasn’t bolted to the wall correctly,” Fjord comments, shaking his head, turning his attention back to the road. “I even offered to fix it…”

“It was bolted fine, Fjord. Obviously the gods are just fucking me because that’s just my life I guess,” Beau grumbles, glaring out the window.

“I hope they used protection,” Jester retorts in a singsong voice, gasping suddenly and clapping her hands. “I love this song!”

“Jester, no,” Fjord complains reaching over to turn the radio off. “I ain’t listenin’ to that song again.”

“Fjord no! It’s sooooo good!”

“Yeah, sure it’s a good song, until you’ve heard it about a million times.” Fjord rolls his eyes when Jester pouts at him, but he pulls his hand away from the volume button. “Fine, but if I gotta listen to this crap now I’m pickin’ the music on the ride back.”

Beau reaches over and turns the station, ignoring Jester’s protests. “Ugh, no thanks. I’d rather shove pens in my ears than listen to Lynyrd Skynyrd.”

“I don’t listen to Lynyrd Skynyrd.” Jester and Beau both give Fjord skeptical looks and he flushes. “Okay, fine, I like one of their songs but that doesn’t mean I listen to them all the time.”

Beastie Boys blares from the speakers and Beau turns the volume button all the way up, head banging to the song. “This is real music, Fjord,” she yells over the music, singing along at the top of her lungs.

“Y’all gonna blow my damn speakers.” Fjord turns the radio off, and the truck lapses into a heavy silence.

They pull up to Nydoorin Motors not long after and Beau gets out of the truck the moment Fjord puts it in park, squinting up at the building. “Wasn’t this the old fire department?”

“Yeah,” Fjord responds, pulling the keys from the ignition and opening his door. “I’d noticed somebody had been renovatin’ it for a while now, but I didn’t know what they were doin’. Nice to see a garage closer to home.”

“Do you think these people are nice?” Jester asks curiously, jumping down next to Beau. She reaches out to steady herself when she lands weird, resting her hand on Beau’s shoulder, and keeps it there as she looks up at the building.

“If the douche who answered the phone is any indication, probably not.”

“Maybe they were having a bad day?”

Beau shrugs, sighing heavily, and says, “Let’s get this over with.”

“That’s the spirit,” Fjord retorts, an amused look on his face, and heads towards the front entrance.

“Kinda wanna punch him,” Beau mutters, glaring at the back of Fjord’s head.

“I heard that!”

“You were meant to.”

Inside, it’s cool and colorful, the desk and chair bright enough to cause major eye damage. Beau shields her eyes, shaking her head, and complains, “Who did the decorating? I’d ask for a refund.”

“It was me,” the man behind the desk replies and Beau immediately recognizes the voice.

“I’d ask for a refund,” she repeats and the guy gives her a snarky look.

“Can I help you?” he asks looking at each one in turn, raising an interested eyebrow when his eyes flit over Jester and Fjord (they linger a second longer on Fjord).

“Yeah.” Beau moves to stand in front of them, fixing him with a dark stare. “I called earlier about my friend’s bike.”

The guy’s eyes settle on Beau’s face. “I thought I recognized those dulcet tones,” he says sarcastically, smirking at Beau’s scowl, and calls over his shoulder, “Yasha, you’re one o’clock has graced us with her presence!” He turns back to the trio and gestures to the colorful chairs. “Have a seat. She’ll be right with you.”

“Personally, I like your desk and chair,” Jester compliments. “It’s really colorful.”

“Thank you.” The guy winks at her, giving her a kind smile. He gestures to a small table near the door and says, “Help yourselves to some coffee. Perhaps a muffin.”

Jester’s eyes widen. “How many can I have?”

The guy leans over his desk and whispers, “As many as you’d like.”

“Oh, I like him, you guys,” Jester exclaims and hurries towards the table. “Holy shitballs, there are so many!”

“Jester, remember, we’re not their only customers,” Fjord says but it’s obvious she’s ignoring him. He sighs and shakes his head, turning to look at Beau. He leans in and whispers, “Can ya at least act civil until they fix your damn bike?”

“He started it,” Beau hisses glaring at the guy. He’s not looking at her, but from the smug look on his face he’s aware she’s staring at him. “I’m gonna thump so many foreheads today.”

Before Fjord can respond, Beau turns away from him when she hears footsteps approaching the lobby. She lets out a tired breath, not sure she’s ready to meet the person who willingly hired Douche Face sitting behind the desk, only to do a double take when a tall woman steps into the room.

Beau’s pretty sure her jaw is resting on the floor. The woman’s dark hair is tied back into a messy ponytail, loose strands of hair sticking to her sweaty neck, and she’s covered in grease. She’s… she’s also incredibly fit, ridiculously so, and it’s taking all of Beau’s control not to stumble over to her and touch her bulging arms. They’re big enough that they could probably hold a lot of weight. Preferably Beau’s weight, against a wall; any wall, she’s not picky.

“You alright?” Fjord asks her quietly.

“Uh, yeah,” Beau responds, dazed, nodding slowly. “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” She’s still nodding; she has to stop nodding.

Yasha looks from Jester (who is shoving muffins into her pink bag) to Fjord (who is hiding his face and laughing helplessly) to Beau (who is staring at her with wide eyes, her jaw slack, nodding her head like an idiot), and gruffly asks, “Can I help you?”

“Yeah.” Beau gives herself a little mental shake, reminding herself that Dairon is probably going to kill her if she doesn’t pull herself together, and gets to her feet. “My friend’s bike is fucked,” she explains with what she hopes is a winning smile. From Fjord’s expression, it’s probably not, but who the fuck cares.

Skeptical, Yasha says, “And where is this bike?”

“The bike?” Beau stops a minute, losing her train of thought, jumping when Fjord kicks the back of her calf. “Right, the bike. It’s outside. In my friend’s truck. I’ll get it. I’ll get it and you’ll see it. Yeah.”

Internally kicking herself for being so stupid, she turns and rushes outside. She hears Fjord follow her out, speeding up just a little, letting out a tired huff when he easily keeps pace with her, grinning widely.

“What the fuck was that?” he asks, his shoulders shaking.

“I don’t know, dude,” Beau snaps, flustered, walking a bit faster to the truck. “Help me get this stupid thing down.”

Still giggling, Fjord nods and hurries forward to help her.

* * *

“These are really good,” Jester comments, hoping to break the awkward silence that settled over the room when Beau and Fjord walked out, holding up her blueberry muffin. “Where’d you get them?”

Yasha is quiet for a long few seconds, eyeing the door warily, before turning her attention to Jester. Her face softens slightly and she nods to the man behind the desk. “Molly made them.”

“You made these?” Jester’s eyes widen and she looks over at Molly.

He gives her a casual shrug and a warm smile. “What can I say? When insomnia strikes I find myself in a baking mood.”

“Can I hire you for my next birthday?” Jester says around a mouthful of muffin and Molly chuckles softly.

“I should go help them,” Yasha says, looking towards the door, and Jester nods.

“They’re not very strong,” she says wiping her hands on a napkin. “Fjord likes to pretend he is, but I saw him struggle with a door once.” She laughs softly at the memory, shaking her head.

“I’ll go help them.” Yasha heads outside, leaving Jester and Molly in the lobby.

Molly idly types on his computer for a few seconds before turning his gaze onto Jester again. He gives her another kind smile and asks, “Have you ever had your fortune told?”

“No.”

“Would you like to?”

* * *

 

Yasha watches as Fjord and his friend argue over how to get the bike off his truck. She crosses her arms, amused, listening to them curse at each other for probably a few seconds too long before taking pity on them and walking forward.

“Need any help?” she asks curiously.

“That would be really helpful,” Fjord responds with a slight tip to his head. “Right, Beau?”

Beau is looking intently at the bike, chewing on her lip, but she gives a noncommittal shrug when she realizes Fjord and Yasha are staring at her. “I guess,” she mutters, shrugging again.

Together, the three of them manage to get the bike off the truck. Yasha pushes it inside, Beau and Fjord following her, and walks past Molly giving the blue haired girl a tarot reading. She stops, staring at him for a good six seconds, and he looks up at her, raising his eyebrow. She shakes her head, continuing towards the back, very much aware of Beau trailing after her.

“Is this gonna be expensive?” Beau asks, leaning her hip against a toolbox.

“I’m not sure,” Yasha replies without looking up from the bike.

“I mean, I’m not saying I couldn’t afford it,” Beau continues, picking up a screwdriver and twirling it between her fingers. “But I’m also not saying I could afford it. But like, who can afford anything anymore, right?”

Yasha reaches out, taking the screwdriver from Beau, and says, “You can go sit in the lobby. I’ll let you know what I find, okay?”

Disappointment flickers in her eyes for a few seconds, but Beau manages to shake it off, an unconcerned look settling over her face. “Yeah, that makes sense. I’d hate to distract you from your work.”

When she’s gone, Yasha turns back to the bike. It’s not going to be hard to fix, the damage is mostly cosmetic. She could have this done in a few days, depending on how quickly she can get the parts. She’s seen worse, recalls a time when another Bo wrecked his bike; this won’t be a problem.

She heads back out front. The blue haired girl is excitedly telling Fjord about her fortune, talking so fast Yasha can barely understand her, but he seems to get it, nodding along, a fond smile on his face despite the major side eye he’s giving a thoroughly unconcerned Molly. Beau is leaning against the wall next to the door, but she pushes herself away when she spots Yasha.

“What’s the verdict?”

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Yasha tells her, crossing her arms. “Mostly cosmetic. I can probably have it fixed in a few days.”

“And I will be back in a few days.” Beau scowls when Molly snorts, but she ignores him, keeping her eyes locked on Yasha’s arms. She forces herself to look up, her gaze meeting Yasha’s eyes, and asks, “Is it going to be expensive?”

“I’ll know more when I start ordering the parts, but probably not.” She knows some people, she can probably do this for next to nothing, but she’s also running a business. She and Molly will work on the numbers later.

“Alright.” Beau turns to Fjord and the blue haired girl. “I guess we’ll go.”

“We’ll need your number,” Molly says from behind his desk, getting Beau’s attention. “You know, so we can call you when your bike is done.”

“Right, right, right.” Her eyes drift back to Yasha’s arms for a moment, but Fjord clears his throat and Beau looks away, nodding. “My number. Right.” It takes her three tries, and Molly isn’t even bothering to hide his amused smile, but they eventually get Beau’s phone number.

After they’ve left, Molly says, “All charm, that one.”

“Molly.”

“What? I was talking about the guy.” He grins when Yasha gives him a deadpan look. “The girl, Jester, she’s adorable.”

“Is that the blue haired girl?” When Molly nods, Yasha murmurs, “She is.”

“And the guy…”

“Fjord?”

“Fjord, huh?” Molly quirks an eyebrow, smirking. “Do you think I could handle two relationships?”

Yasha sighs, walking towards the back. “You tried that, remember?”

“The twins were not my finest moment, I will admit,” Molly concedes, following Yasha. “But I do not regret that for one second.”

“You have very few regrets, Molly,” Yasha points out, scrolling through her contacts, looking for Bosum’s number.

“And they get fewer and fewer every day.” Molly grins, heading back towards the lobby, and Yasha shakes her head.

* * *

 

Nott wrings her hands, staring forlornly at her lap. She chews on her bottom lip, rocking back and forth in the passenger seat, and Caleb gives her another worried look, reaching out and patting her head.

“It wasn’t a very good job anyway,” he says, dragging his hand down her hair.

She hunches her shoulders, shaking her head. “I really wanted to help you, Caleb, I truly did, but I just, you know, I saw the necklace…”

Caleb nods, pulling his hand away. “We talked about the stealing.”

“We did,” Nott murmurs, pulling her knees to her chest. “And I tried, Caleb, I really tried.”

“I know you did.” He knew when they decided to settle down in one spot it wouldn’t be easy. Neither one are what anyone would call social, and Nott’s kleptomania is almost as worse as her drinking, but they wanted to try. He’s starting to regret that decision.

“I just want you to have a normal life,” Nott says softly. “You deserve a normal life, and you can’t have that if I keep fucking up.”

“Hey, no, you’re not…” Caleb sighs, reaching out to pry Nott’s hands apart so he can squeeze one. “You are not fucking anything up, okay? It’s was one mistake, and besides you didn’t even like that job. We’ll find you something else, ja? Something you’ll really enjoy.”

“Okay.”

When they get home, Nott heads inside and Caleb watches her retreating form from the car. The moment the door shuts behind her, he leans forward and rests his forehead against the steering wheel, closing his eyes. His job at the library is not going to pay their rent or keep their power on or stop them from starving to death. He could try to get a second job just until Nott finds something else, but he doubts her current employer is going to be accommodating when he starts getting phone calls from other employers asking if he’d consider recommending Nott for a new job. They’re lucky the man didn’t press charges, Caleb is not ready to press their luck any further.

He leans back, resting his head against his headrest, and lets out a shaky breath. He’ll figure something out, he always does; even when he doesn’t have the strength to try; everything will be fine.

He pulls the keys from the ignition, getting out of his crappy hatchback, and heads towards his house. The moment he opens the door, Frumpkin darts outside, running across the street to those stupid bushes again.

“Fuck,” Caleb whispers, hanging his head. He closes the door, chasing after his cat. This day just keeps getting better.

* * *

Beau pokes at the scrambled eggs in the pan with her spatula, willing them to cook faster. Her mind drifts to Yasha and she wonders what she’s doing right now; probably lifting a car. Jester had mentioned in passing that mechanics were something Yasha has been into since she’s been a kid. Apparently her new bff Molly told her; Beau barely holds back a snort. Molly and Jester probably had a grand ol’ time discussing Yasha.

But Beau isn’t jealous or anything. Jester is capable of having other friends. She’s totally friends with Fjord and Beau doesn’t care; why should she care if Jester wants to be friends with Molly? She doesn’t. She doesn’t care in the slightest.

“Cook you stupid eggs,” Beau snaps at the eggs, poking them again. They wiggle back at her and she begrudgingly has to respect their defiance.

Someone knocks at the door and Beau narrows her eyes. Who the fuck is visiting them? Nobody visits them. Except Fjord, but he’s at work so she knows it’s not him. They knock again and Beau sighs, turning the stove off. She walks out of the kitchen, moving towards the front door, and opens it.

She doesn’t recognize the guy standing on her porch, but he’s not dressed nice enough to be a salesman so she doesn’t immediately slam the door in his face. She does scowl at him and demand, “Are you lost?”

Taken aback, the guy takes a few steps back and shakes his head. “No. I, uh, my cat…”

“What about your cat?”

“He is in your bushes.”

“Bush Guy?” Fjord told her and Jester earlier about the guy he found crawling around in their bushes.

“I, uh…” he flushes, looking down at his feet. “Ja, ja that is me. I am sorry, I was just trying to get my cat. I explained this to Fjord, and he can tell you...”

“Look, dude, whatever. I mean, yeah, that was creepy as fuck, and if I had caught you I probably would have knocked you out and called the cops, but like whatever.” She shrugs, noting the way the guy’s eyes widen just a little, his forehead turning an even darker red. “You wanna crawl around in the bushes, looking for your cat, go for it. I won’t stop you, but just so you know I totally could if I had to.”

“I have no doubt,” the guy mutters and steps off the porch, already heading towards the bushes. Beau shuts the door, returning to her eggs, occasionally peeking out the window to see what Bush Guy is doing. He probably has a name, she’s pretty sure Fjord told her and Jester, but she can’t remember it. Bush Guy works for now.

“What are you staring at?” Jester asks popping up behind Beau.

“Gah! Stop doing that!” Beau whirls around, brandishing her spatula, lowering it when she sees Jester holding a struggling orange cat in her arms. “Uh, what’s that?”

“Isn’t he cuuuute,” Jester exclaims, holding him up. “I’ve named him Lumpy. And look-” she shoves the cat in Beau’s face, showing her the pink ribbon around his neck. “We have matching bows.”

“Where did you, uh, find Lumpy?” Beau asks curiously, risking a glance over her shoulder. This cat might not be Bush Guy’s cat, but it’s too much of a coincidence and Beau isn’t a big believer in those anyway.

“In our bushes,” Jester says, hugging the cat to her chest. Beau can see the scratches across her face and arms now, battle wounds from her journey into the bushes to rescue Bush Guy’s cat. “He didn’t have a collar.” Beau knows she’s lying, Jester always looks up when she lies, and she’s staring intently at the ceiling.

“Are you sure?”

“Yep.” She’s looking so hard at the ceiling, Beau can almost sees the whites of her eyes.

“Jester.”

She lets out a deep sigh and blurts, “Okay, fine, he had one, but he also had a stupid name. Frumpkin? Who even names their cat that? It’s so stupid.”

“Bush Guy did.”

“Fjord’s Bush Guy?” Jester looks over Beau’s shoulder, her brow furrowing when she sees Bush Guy crawling around outside. She turns her attention back to Beau, giving her a sad look, and says, “But he let Lumpy out.”

Beau takes the cat from Jester and walks him towards the door. She yanks it open and looks down at Bush Guy. “Hey!”

He scrambles out of the bushes, leaves and twigs in his hair, and looks cautiously up at Beau. She holds his cat up and says, “This yours?”

“Ja. Yes, he is.” Bush Guy stands up, accepting the cat when Beau hands him to him. “ _Danke_.”

“ _Danke_ to you, too,” Beau grumbles watching as the guy cradles the cat to his chest.

“Your cat’s name is stupid,” Jester says from behind Beau.

“I’m sorry?”

“You should have called him Lumpy.”

“Yeah, man, why didn’t you call him Lumpy?” Beau questions and she notices the guy’s face turning red again.

“I-I hadn’t…”

“I’m joking, jeez. Jester, where’s the cat’s collar?”

“Here.” Jester steps forward, giving the guy Frumpkin’s collar. “You have a cute cat,” she comments, reaching out to pet Frumpkin. “Goodbye, Lumpy.” She retreats back into the house, leaving Beau and Bush Guy standing in the front lawn.

“I will try to keep my cat indoors,” Bush Guy says quietly, absentmindedly petting his cat.

Beau sighs. “If he shows up again we’re keeping him.”

“I would appreciate it if you didn’t.”

“Yeah, well, tell that to Jester.” She looks over Bush Guy’s shoulder, squinting at the houses behind him, and asks, “Are you new?”

“We, um, we moved in last week.” He shuffles from foot to foot, looking around nervously, and Beau wonders if this is the longest human interaction he’s had since moving to town.

“You’ve been here a week and you’re just now meeting the neighbors?” she asks, raising her eyebrows.

“I’m not… my social graces aren’t what you’d call…” Bush Guy trails off, shrugging. “I haven’t had time,” he manages to get out, voice barely above a whisper.

“Man, no sweat, Jester and I have been here two months and we know like… Fjord. And Bryce. And Fjord doesn’t even live in the neighborhood. So, social graces are shit anyway.” She tries to give him a kind smile when he looks up, but it feels more like a grimace. She’s trying; sue her.

“I should probably go.” He turns to leave, and Beau almost lets him, but she’s trying to be more of a people person.

She rolls her eyes and calls, “Hey, wait. I’m Beau. Beauregard. What’s... ?” she sighs. “Who are you?”

He keeps his back to her, his shoulders tense, but they relax a little when he processes the question. He turns his head and says, “Caleb.”

“I guess it’s better than, Bush Guy.” Before he can respond, Beau walks back into the house, closing the door behind her. She leans against the door, her eyes seeking out Jester. She finds her sitting on the couch, eating a plate full of eggs, watching something stupid on TV.

“Let’s never meet another neighbor again,” Beau says, crossing the room to sit next to her, falling limply on the couch. She watches the TV for a few seconds, gives up on trying to figure out the plot, and looks over at Jester. “Are those my eggs?”

Jester nods, shoveling another forkful into her mouth. “They are.”

“Asshole.”

“Yep.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a lot of people riding in cars together... which was not my original intention yet here we are.
> 
> Thanks for reading and leaving me comments. Feel free to leave more, and I really hope I can update a lot sooner next chapter.
> 
> Bye!!

Beau glares at her phone, buzzing on her nightstand. She knows it’s not exactly early, probably close to eleven, but she’d had a late night at work and is silently cursing the vile fuck who decided to wake her up.

She picks up her phone, glaring at the screen, and immediately sits up. She combs her fingers through her hair, shaking her shoulders out, and clears her throat. She hits answer and calmly says, “Yo?”

“Is that really how you answer the phone?”

Beau sags against her bed, letting out a frustrated breath, rolling her eyes. Of course Molly would be the one to call, what made her think Yasha would be calling her; he is technically her receptionist. Or whatever.

“Is my bike ready?”

“All charm,” Molly mutters and Beau rolls her eyes again.

“Is it ready or not?” She’s barely holding onto her patience, the overwhelming urge to reach through the phone and throttle Molly sounding more and more plausible the longer she talks to him.

“Yes, your bike is finished.” Beau hears Molly shuffle some papers, type a few things on his computer, and then let out a soft breath. “You can come and get it whenever, but we do charge storage after two days.”

Beau is already out of bed, searching around her room for a clean pair of jeans. “I can be there in thirty minutes.”

“Someone is eager to get her bike back,” Molly comments sarcastically, a barely concealed smirk in his voice.

Beau freezes, one leg in her best pair of jeans, eyebrows furrowing. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“See you in thirty.”

After Molly hangs up, Beau snorts and throws her phone onto her bed. She finishes getting dressed and grabs her phone, only to stop. She has no ride to Yasha’s shop. Fjord and Jester are working, Bryce is out of town visiting their family, and she can’t very well drive her Vespa to pick up Dairon’s bike without someone going with her to drive it back.

“Fuck,” she whispers, debating whether or not to call Molly back and tell him she might be later than she thought. She’s just about to hit send on the shop's number when she remembers another neighbor who just might be home.

She shoves her feet into a pair of boots, grabs her jacket off the back of her bedroom door, and heads out of the house. She checks for any oncoming traffic and jogs across the road, pumping her fist when she sees Caleb’s car parked in his driveway.

She walks across his yard, scaring a squirrel, and knocks on the front door. It takes a minute for someone to answer, but eventually the door opens a crack to reveal a pair of amber eyes. A sharp, screechy voice asks, “Can I help you?”

“Uh, hi.” Beau waves awkwardly, looking behind her. “I have the right house, right?”

“I don’t know?”

“Does Caleb live here? Red hair, about this tall, dirty coat…?” Beau trails off, racking her brain for anything else she can use to describe Caleb that doesn’t end with her insulting him; she’s trying really hard to be a better person. Sometimes.

“I know what Caleb looks like,” the voice says, irritated. “Why are you looking for him?”

“I was, uh, hoping he could give me a ride. I’m Beau. We met the other day. He was crawling around in my bushes.” She tries smiling, wonders if she’s succeeding at trying to be friendly. “He didn’t mention me?”

“He did,” the voice states, carefully. “He’s also not home. He walked to work.”

The door starts to close but Beau reaches out and catches it, watching the amber eyes widen. She quickly releases the door and raises her hands calmly. “Can you drive? It doesn’t have to be Caleb who takes me. I just really need a ride.”

There’s a small sigh but the door finally swings open, revealing a barefoot girl wearing a baggy hoodie and sweats. Her head barely clears Beau’s waist, her stringy dark hair is hiding her face, and it’s hard to determine just how old she is; it’s probably rude to ask.

“Are you aware it’s 11 on a Wednesday?” Beau internally winces at her question, cursing herself.

The girl’s eyes narrow and she sharply asks, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She’s already dug the grave, she might as well jump inside. “I’m just checking that you’re, like, not Caleb’s younger sister who’s skipping school or something. I mean, I don’t give a shit if you are, I skipped school all the time when I was your age-” Beau winces again. She’s starting to sound old, like middle-aged old, and she’s not even 24 yet. “You know what, forget it. It’s not my business.”

The girl stares at her for a full ten seconds before impatiently asking, “Where do you need me to take you?”

“I need to pick up my bike.”

“Alright.” The girl disappears back inside, returning a few moments later with her shoes on and a set of keys in her hand. “You’ll have to tell me where to go.”

“Okay.”

For the first few minutes of the drive, the car is silent aside from the occasional direction from Beau, but finally she decides to test the waters by asking, “So, are you related to Caleb?”

The girl is quiet for a long second before carefully answering, “Caleb and I are friends.”

“Do you have a name?”

Again, there is a pause before the girl says, “Nott.”

“That’s a… a nice name,” Beau comments, internally wincing again. Why is she being so fucking awkward?

“It’s just a name,” Nott retorts, stopping at a stop sign.

“Sure, sure.” The car lapses into another long silence.

Beau can’t get out of the car fast enough when Nott stops in front of Yasha’s shop. She takes a few seconds to thank her (Fjord would be proud), and Nott manages a pale smile before driving away. It’s progress.

Inside, Molly is on the phone, but he looks up when Beau walks in, waving behind him to let her know where Yasha is, returning his attention to the computer. Beau thinks about making a comment, decides it’s not worth it, and heads towards the back.

* * *

Yasha hums under her breath, digging through one of her toolboxes. Molly had gotten bored last night, took another walk, and it appears he walked here to reorganize her tools. Yasha isn’t sure what his system is, but none of her wrenches are where she put them.

“That’s a nice song,” a voice calls out, startling Yasha, and she whirls around to see Beau leaning against the wall, her arms crossed, watching Yasha through curious eyes. “I don’t recognize it.”

“You wouldn’t.” Yasha turns back to her toolbox, shutting the drawer. She’ll deal with it later. She returns her attention to Beau and says, “You really shouldn’t be back here.”

“Molly waved me through. I figured it was okay.” Beau pushes away from the wall, walking towards Yasha. “Besides, I’m here to pick up my bike. Figured it’d be back here.”

“It’s out in the back lot,” Yasha says, nodding towards the garage door in the back. “I’ll get your bill and show you where it’s at. I’m sure you talked to your insurance company about any co-payment…”

“Insurance company?” Beau takes a step back, running a hand through her hair. “Yeah, yeah Dairon never really said anything about insurance.”

“Dairon? Your friend?”

“Yeah. She just said watch my bike. Is it expensive? Should I call her about insurance? I don’t even have her number.” Beau mutters something, taking her phone from her pocket. “Really, should I call her?”

“It’s not expensive,” Yasha says quickly, hoping to staunch Beau’s panicking. “I just thought, vehicles have insurance, maybe you’d get some assistance paying for it. Should have known not to ask when you didn’t mention it.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Nodding, Beau puts her phone away. She shrugs, fixing that unconcerned smile on her face, and says, “It’s fine. I probably shouldn’t be bothering her anyway.” She mutters something about Dairon killing her if she found out, and shrugs again. “I’ll just, you know, pay for it. No big deal.”

Warily, Yasha nods and leads Beau up front. She asks Molly to print out Beau’s bill, and he nods, typing a few things on his computer. While they wait, Yasha watches as Beau pats her pockets, her face paling.

“Shit,” she whispers hanging her head.

“Problem?” Molly perks up, but Yasha sets a hand on his shoulder, silently asking him to be nice, and he nods in understanding, looking back at his computer monitor.

“My wallet.” Beau lets out a heavy sigh, tilting her head back and staring at the ceiling. “I left my wallet at home.”

“At home you say?”

“Mollymauk,” Yasha warns and he rolls his eyes but nods again, staring intently at his computer.

“Look, I’ll just call my friend Jester, see if she can stop at home during her lunch break and get it. It’ll be fine.”

“We can store it for you,” Yasha says kindly. “It’s not a problem.”

Beau nods, distracted, and puts her phone to her ear. She paces back and forth, muttering under her breath, cursing when Jester doesn’t answer. She hangs up, trying again, her pacing getting a bit faster when her friend doesn’t answer the second time.

“I’ll try Fjord.”

Yasha and Molly share a look when Beau’s not paying attention and he shrugs. She sighs, rubbing the back of her neck, and nods. She moves forward, stopping Beau’s pacing, and calmly says, “We’ll store it. You come back later, pay us then, okay?”

“I have the money,” Beau says shortly, clutching her phone. “I’m not lying about the wallet thing. I really did leave it at home.”

“I believe you,” Yasha responds slowly, raising her hands in front of her to placate the situation. “And if you’d like, Molly or I can give you a ride home so you can get it…”

“If you don’t mind riding around in my Beetle,” Molly says looking around Yasha to smile at Beau.

“A Beetle?”

“It’s from the 60’s.”

“Of course it is.” Beau looks between the two hesitantly for a few seconds before her resolve cracks and she nods. “Okay, fine. Let’s go get my wallet.”

* * *

 It’s her second car ride of the day, and Beau glares out the window as Molly’s 80’s synth pop blares from his car’s crackly speakers. He sings along, loud and off key, and Beau is ten seconds away from opening the door and jumping out.

She gets a text message from Jester, apologizing for not answering her call, and Beau thinks about ghosting her but decides in the end to tell her everything is fine and not to worry. She could be lying, she doesn’t know, but the last thing she wants is Jester spending the rest of the day wondering if Beau is mad at her.

“How are your friends?” Molly asks suddenly, turning the radio down. “Fjord and Jester, right?”

“Yep,” Beau responds crossing her arms. “And they’re fine.”

“Just fine?”

“Anyone ever tell you you’re a bit nosy?”

“I’m just asking some innocent questions. No need to get snippy.”

Beau shoots a dark look at Molly and he smirks. “What?”

“Wounded pride is not a great look on you, dear.”

“Whatever.” Beau looks away, glaring at a passing car when she hears Molly chuckle.

When they pull into Beau’s driveway, Molly makes an interested noise, and Beau looks over at him curiously.

“I live around here,” he says, gesturing down the street. “About a block away. I recognize this area from my walks.”

“You live around here?” Molly nods and Beau scoffs, shoving her door open. Of course he lives around here; it makes sense this guy is her neighbor. The gods are just screwing with her at this point. “I’ll be right back.”

Beau hurries inside, returning a few minutes later after locating her wallet under her bed, and takes a second to actually study Molly’s car. The hood is the original purple, the doors blue and green, and the trunk a dark red. The car matches the owner, colorful and ostentatious, and Beau has to begrudgingly admit that she respects his blatant disregard for what others think of him.

She gets back in Molly’s car, waving her wallet, and says, “See. Told you I had it.”

With a patronizing smile, Molly says, “I never doubted you.”

“Ass.”

“Takes one to know one,” he says and backs out of her driveway.

* * *

 “Yasha did a nice job,” Fjord comments, walking slowly around the bike.

“You can’t even tell my bike ruined it,” Jester responds from the workbench, swinging her feet back and forth.

“Are we all in agreement that this didn’t happen?” Beau looks between her two friends, waiting for them to nod, and then nods back. “Cool. Dairon doesn’t need to know about the damages, and I’ll just, you know, try not to spend too much until my next credit card bill comes in.” She doesn’t even know if she paid her last credit card bill; she should really look into that at some point.

“Let’s go eat,” Jester exclaims, jumping off the workbench and skipping past Fjord and Beau. “I want some tacos!”

“And afterward, I’ll fix that bike rack,” Fjord announces, following Jester out of the garage. Beau trails behind him, looking back at the Dairon’s motorcycle. Yasha really did do a nice job on it; she even managed to find the exact blue paint. It sucks that there’s not a reason to go back and see her now.

“Don’t put that thing back up,” Jester says hopping into Fjord’s truck. “What happens if it falls off the wall again?”

“It won’t.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I know how to drill.” Jester giggles helplessly, and Fjord’s face turns red as he quickly says, “That’s not what I meant.”

“Hey Beau, did you hear?! Fjord knows how to drill!”

"What?” Beau pulls her attention away from the bike, looking over at Jester giggling in Fjord’s truck while he stares intently at the ground, shaking his head. “Good for him.”

“Beau, are you okay?” Jester asks worriedly, sobering up.

“I’m fine.” She offers Jester a smile, shutting the garage door, and heads towards Fjord’s truck. “Did you say something about tacos?”

Once they’re all in the truck, Jester continues teasing Fjord about his drilling ability while he grumbles and turns up the radio. Tuning them out, Beau watches the garage get progressively smaller as they drive away, a half-baked plan already forming in her head.

* * *

 Caleb is digging around in the sofa for loose change when someone knocks at his door. His head shoots up, eyes staring cautiously at the door, and he debates whether to hide in the bathroom, but decides it’s not worth it. Whoever is behind that door probably saw his car in the driveway and won’t go away.

He stands up, walking towards the door, opening it to find the blue haired girl from across the street, Jester, standing in the threshold, a grin on her face and a half-eaten plate of cookies in her hand.

“Hello,” she says sweetly, brandishing the plate at him. “Can I visit Lumpy?”

“I don’t-” Caleb is gently pushed to the side as Jester walks inside, taking in her surroundings. “I wasn’t expecting company,” he says, clutching the cookies tightly in his hands.

The house isn’t exactly tidy. There are half-read books scattered across the coffee table and laying abandoned on the floor along with some of the odds and ends Nott tinkers with on occasion. He recognizes two of his hoodies poking out from under the couch, a pair of shoes left forgotten by the door, and an old coffee mug sitting on top of the TV stand. The couch is covered in crumbs, as is the old armchair he and Nott found at the dump, and there’s a weird stain on the carpet that he’s pretty sure came with the house.

“Nott and I aren’t housekeepers,” he defends weakly, waiting for Jester to say something about their living arrangements.

“It smells like old balls in here,” Jester says bluntly and then shrugs and drops to her knees, looking under the couch. “Lumpy,” she calls, moving onto the armchair. “Lumpy, come here!”

“His name is Frumpkin,” Caleb reminds her but she ignores him, shuffling towards the kitchen. He slowly follows her, knowing that room isn’t any better than the living room. There are dirty dishes piled in the sink, the counter is covered with even more books, and their old coffee pot still has leftover coffee in it from that morning. He'd hate to see Jester's reaction if she saw his and Nott's bedrooms.

Caleb sets the cookies on one of the only clean spots on the counter, knowing Nott will probably eat them at some point, and turns to see what Jester is doing.

“Lumpy!” She peeks into Frumpkin’s food bowl, trying to determine if he’d been there lately. He hasn’t; Caleb noticed him slink off into Nott’s room an hour ago. He probably rolled around on her bed for a good minute before jumping down and taking a nap in her closet.

“Where is he?” Jester demands, getting to her feet.

Caleb shrugs, motioning towards the door. “I guess he’s busy. Maybe you can come back later. I am just heading out.”

“To where?”

“Uh, the store?”

“Can I come with?”

Flustered, Caleb says, “It’s not, uh, I don’t think you’d have fun…” He trails off, wishing Nott were here, but she’d taken the bus downtown to look for another job earlier that day.

“Nonsense, I love the store.” Jester leans in, whispering, “And they _love_ me.”

“O-okay?”

Jester grins, taking Caleb’s reaction as confirmation, and skips towards the door. With a soft sigh, Caleb collects his jacket off the back of one of the kitchen chairs and follows her outside.

He barely has the car started when Jester turns the radio on, flipping through his preset stations. She shakes her head, muttering something under her breath, and asks, “Why aren’t these set?”

“I don’t-” Caleb trails off, shrugging. “I don’t listen to a lot of music. I didn’t see the point.”

“Can I set them?”

“I, I guess.”

Jester beams and the car is quiet for the next few minutes as she starts fiddling with the radio, deliberating with herself about which stations are key, shaking her head when she finds one she doesn’t like; eventually she nods and looks over at Caleb.

“It is finished,” she says calmly.

“Okay?”

Some top 40 song plays softly from the radio, something Caleb doesn’t recognize, but from the way Jester bobs her head to the music she must know it. She waits until the song is over before turning the radio off and asking, “So, when did you move in?”

“A few weeks ago.”

“Have you met any of the neighbors yet?”

“Beauregard, you, Molly…” Caleb wishes she’d turn the radio back on.

“I know Molly, too,” she exclaims, wiggling in her seat. “Isn’t he great?”

“He’s certainly something.”

“Have you met Yasha yet?”

Caleb shakes his head. “I don’t believe I have.”

“Oh my gods, she is so cool. She owns a garage and Molly works for her and I’m pretty sure they’re, like, living together. But I don’t think they’re together, together, you know? At least I hope not because otherwise Beau would be _super_ sad because I think she likes Yasha but she won’t admit it.” Jester takes a breath and continues, “Fjord told me not to pry. That Beau will admit it when she’s ready, but I think Beau is just scared to admit she likes Yasha just in case Yasha doesn’t like her back, but what’s not to like about Beau? She can punch people really hard and she’s funny and she can be nice if she tries…”

Caleb absently nods along, tuning out Jester’s words, concentrating on the road. He’s not aware Jester has changed the subject until she pokes him in the face and says, “Are you listening to me?”

“ _Was? Ja,_ yes I am listening.” Jester gives him a dubious look and he sighs, admitting, “Okay, I was not really listening. Did you ask a question?”

“I asked about your roommate? Nott, right? Beau mentioned her.”

“Oh. Yes. Nott.” Caleb stares out the windshield for a brief moment before saying, “She is my friend. We keep an eye on each other.”

“Is she nice?”

“She is very nice,” Caleb responds sparing Jester a quick glance before looking out the windshield again.

“I would like to meet her.”

“Perhaps you will.”

Jester leans back in her seat, pulling her legs to her chest, and rests her chin on her knees. She reaches out, turning the radio on, and quickly flicks through all of the stations before turning it off again.

“What do you do?” she asks curiously, turning her head so her cheek rests against her knees.

“I work at the library.”

“Beau worked there for a bit,” Jester says with a faint smile on her face. “She got fired because she argued too much. Maybe they gave you Beau’s old job.”

“Maybe.”

“Do you like this neighborhood?”

“It’s okay, I guess.”

“I think it’s nice. Have you met Bryce? They’re nice.”

Caleb shakes his head, pulling into the store’s parking lot. “We’re here.”

“Yep…” Jester trails off when her phone starts buzzing. She pulls it out, reading the text curiously, and furiously types back. The phone buzzes a few seconds after she sends her text and she reads the response, narrowing her eyes suspiciously before nodding and texting back. She puts her phone away and looks over at Caleb, eyes wide and innocent.

“Caaaleb, I know we just got here, but can we go get Fjord?”

“Why?”

“Just because…”

“But we’re already here and this is a very good parking spot.” Caleb managed to find a spot near the door, a rarity for a Saturday.

“I know, but Fjord _loves_ the grocery store. He’d want to be here.” She clasps her hands together and pouts. “Please, Caleb. Please.”

Caleb lets out a long sigh before rolling his eyes and nodding. “Fine, but we’re going to need gas first.”

“Oh.” Jester perks up, pulling a hot pink wallet from her matching purse. “I can pay for it!”

“You don’t have…”

“Nonsense.” Jester reaches out, patting Caleb’s arm. “You’re going out of your way. It’s the least I can do.”

“Okay?”

“Good.”

They get gas at some small gas station just outside of town. Jester uses a shiny, pink credit card to pay for the fuel, buying a handful of candy and a coffee for Caleb while she’s at it, and once they’re back on the road she directs him to where Fjord lives.

They end up at a small marina, about 20 minutes from their neighborhood. There are two or three fishing boats tied to the docks, floating lazily in the water, along with a houseboat at the end. Jester points to the houseboat and says, “That’s where Fjord lives.”

“It’s nice.”

“It is.” Jester gets out of the car. “C’mon!”

Together they walk up the dock, the boat getting closer. It’s old, probably purchased around the early 80’s, the once blue sides sun faded. The windows look dirty in the sun, the sides covered in algae, and the rope from the anchor looks old and frayed, but it looks seaworthy and has probably been used many times in the past. The only thing that stands out is the name, stenciled into the side in dark cursive: _Hexblade’s Curse._

“I wonder if Fjord is home,” Jester says already boarding the boat.

This is not what Caleb had been expecting when he thought about Fjord, but in a way it fits. Of course he’d live on a houseboat. He probably fishes on his days off, most likely has a dog or two, and Caleb is finding him harder and harder to relate to the more he thinks about him. He forces himself to stop.

With a sigh, he follows Jester onto the boat.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos and comments :)

Fjord stumbles towards the door, the familiar rocking beneath his feet causing him to reach out and steady himself on the counter. He sniffs, rubbing sleep from his eyes, and continues forward, unlocking and pulling the sliding door open. He shields his eyes from the sun, his vision taking a moment to adjust, and he sighs when he finds Jester beaming up at him with an uncomfortable Caleb lingering behind her, his hands buried deep in his tattered jacket pockets. A fringe of red hair falls into his eyes and he pulls one hand free to brush it aside. He catches Fjord watching him and flushes, quickly looking at his feet.

Deciding not to pursue that rabbit hole, Fjord turns his attention to Jester and gruffly asks, “Can I help you?”

“Hello, Fjord,” Jester says brightly, swinging her body back and forth. “Are you busy?”

“I was kinda sleepin’. Why?” His eyes settle on Caleb’s face again. “She kidnap you?”

“Fjord!”

He shrugs, exasperated, looking back at Jester. “What? I don’t know! You show up out of the blue with a guy you met once after stealing his cat…”

“I never stole Lumpy!”

“Frumpkin,” Caleb murmurs but Jester ignores him.

“I rescued him from the bushes. If anything, I am a hero!”

“Caleb,” Fjord starts, looking around Jester to try and catch his eyes, “if she kidnapped you blink twice.”

“Maybe he kidnapped me!” Jester argues, putting her hands on her hips. “Did you ever think of that?”

“Right, yeah, he kidnapped you and brought you here, where he’s never been before. That makes perfect sense.” Jester scowls at Fjord and he looks away from her, shaking his head, seeking out Caleb again. “Seriously, did she kidnap you?”

“Uh, nein, no. I am, I am here willingly.” Nervously, Caleb looks around and mutters, “I am just not certain why.”

“I told you,” Jester says, looking over her shoulder at Caleb, “Fjord really likes the grocery store.”

“No, I don’t,” Fjord says, suddenly suspicious. “When have I ever said I liked the grocery store?”

Jester’s eyes widen innocently and she quickly says, “You said it once. Like a long time ago. I swear you did.”

Fjord makes a disagreeing noise. “Don’t remember that.”

“You said it,” Jester insists with a sigh. “Remember? At Bryce’s barbeque last month? Remember, Fjord? You said it.”

Deciding the argument isn’t worth it, Fjord asks, “Jester, do you want me to go to the grocery store with you guys?”

“Only if you want to,” Jester responds, her voice several octaves higher than usual. “I wouldn’t want to force you to go with us.”

Fjord lets out a soft breath. “Lemme get dressed.”

Jester claps her hands, jumping up and down. “Oh, Fjord, we’re going to have so much fun.”

“Yep.” Fjord shares a tired look with Caleb before shutting the door and retreating back into his houseboat to look for something to wear. He returns to the door a few minutes later, pulling a hoodie over his head, and slides it open to find Jester drawing a dick on the side of his boat while Caleb gives her an anxious look, glancing over his shoulder, paling when he sees Fjord watching them.

Fjord sighs, shaking his head, and locks his door. He walks past Jester and Caleb, heading towards the dock, calling over his shoulder, “You comin’ or not?”

“Coming,” Jester replies in a singsong voice, putting the final touches on her dick. She caps her marker, grabs Caleb’s hand, and drags him off the boat.

* * *

Beau watches as Caleb backs out of his parking spot, Jester chatting animatedly in the backseat while Fjord nods along from the passenger side. She counts to ten, waiting until the car turns the corner, before jogging across the parking lot to the dock. She hurries towards the last boat, looking around for anyone watching her, and crosses the plank to the deck of Fjord’s home.

As ideas go, she could do better, but she’s running low on funds (and calling an Uber to get here hadn’t helped that fact). It’s easier and cheaper to “borrow” Fjord’s truck than hire a tow truck. Maybe. If she’s being honest, she hasn’t thought this all the way through but she needs Yasha to believe Dairon’s motorcycle isn’t driveable. She still hasn’t figured out how she’s going to get the motorcycle onto Fjord’s truck, but that’s Future Beau’s problem.

Beau pulls her lockpicking set from her back pocket. It’s been awhile since she’s had to do this, her past is not exactly clean, but it’s got to be like riding a bike. It can’t be that hard. She hopes. Otherwise she’s going to have to either break a window or go back to the drawing board, and Beau really doesn’t want to come up with a plan B.

When she texted Jester about this plan, she hadn’t exactly told her all the details. Mostly she asked if she could get Fjord out of his house and that’s about it. Using her best friend’s dumb crush on her other best friend to make her plan work is probably mean on some level but whatever. Karma may be a bitch, but Karma can also suck it.

It takes a few tries, but Beau is finally able to get the lock open. She shoves her lockpicking stuff back in her pocket, pushes herself up, and creeps inside. She knows Fjord probably took his truck keys with him, but she also knows he keeps a spare somewhere in his boat. She just has to find it.

She pokes around his cabinets, putting a couple cereal bars in her pockets. She steals a handful of jelly beans from the fish-shaped candy bowl that Jester gave him for his birthday, adding them to her pockets, and pops a couple more into her mouth while she opens drawers.

“Where are those dumb keys,” Beau mutters, turning in a slow circle. She looks up, a metal tin sitting on top of his portable wardrobe catching her eyes, and she moves towards it, standing on her tiptoes to grab it. She opens the top, digging through a handful of change, moving aside a photo of Fjord and some dude, and makes a triumphant noise when she finds the keys buried at the bottom.

Before she closes the tin, she looks at the photo. Fjord looks a few years younger, grinning broadly at the camera, while the pale guy standing next to him blue steels. She doesn’t know much about Fjord’s past, other than he’d inherited this boat from his foster dad when he died, but she can tell this dude is too young to be Vandrin. He’s probably one of Fjord’s high school friends. Whoever he is, Beau might hate him a little bit.

Fjord could do better.

She puts the picture back, replaces the lid on the tin, and hurries out of Fjord’s boat, making sure she locks the door behind her.

Once she’s on the road, Beau rolls the window down and turns the radio up really loud, singing along to the song blaring from the speakers. She should probably worry about Fjord reporting his truck stolen when he gets home, but that’s another Future Beau problem.

Future Beau is probably going to be pissed.

* * *

Yasha walks into the front lobby, heading towards the mini fridge sitting next to Molly’s desk, and gets a water. She cracks open the lid, leaning against the wall, and watches as Molly adds several more things to his shopping list.

“You’re still planning that party?” Yasha asks curiously, sipping her drink, already knowing the answer but sort of hoping it’s changed since earlier that morning.

“I plan a Halloween party every year,” Molly replies without looking up from his list.

“We missed Halloween,” Yasha points out, swirling her water around. “Remember?”

“Every day is Halloween if you don’t give a fuck.” Molly clicks his pen, tossing it on his desk, and stands up, grinning broadly. “Do you need anything while I’m at the store?”

“Do you remember you’re technically still working?”

“I’ll be back.” Molly kisses her forehead and walks out of the door, waving over his shoulder.

Yasha shakes her head, amused, and drains the rest of her water bottle. She tosses it into the recycling bin, pushing away from the wall, stretching her arms over her head. She looks towards the back, knowing she has a car engine she needs to look at, but she’s not quite ready to get back to work.

She sits at Molly’s computer, her hand nudging his mouse, and the screen comes to life on his Facebook page. She doesn’t have one herself, despite Molly’s insistence she get one, but she knows Molly has a lot of friends. Idly ,she scrolls through his home page, scanning a long rant from Ornna about the lack of fire safety at her new job. Gustav posted a half a dozen photos from his recent vacation, and Bo wished Molly a happy birthday (three months late). There are even a few photos of Toya, mostly selfies, but Yasha recognizes Kylre lingering in the back of a few. She wonders if Molly is still friends with the twins or Desmond when she notices a new name.

One of Jester’s photos jumps out first, her pretty face grinning mischievously while she lingers over a sleeping Beau, shaving cream all over her face. Another is of her friend Fjord, putting his hand up to block the camera while someone (most likely Jester) takes his picture. The third is of Beau, sitting alone under a tree, head tilted back, eyes closed, an open book sitting upside down in her lap. There are several pictures of an orange tabby, looking grumpy and tired, a pink bow tied around its neck. Yasha wonders if this might be Jester’s cat. It’s a cute cat.

Yasha keeps scrolling down, noting that Jester posts a lot of stuff, stopping on a picture of Beau, sitting on her motorcycle, wearing a pair of sunglasses and a leather jacket. Under the picture the caption reads: _Biker chick 4 lyfe_. Beau had commented, calling herself _One Badass Bitch_ , and Jester responded with several emojis; at least six were eggplants. Yasha doesn’t know what that means, but it is a nice photo of Beau.

She lingers on it a bit too long, jumping when the phone starts to ring. Guilty, she minimizes Molly’s Facebook page and clears her throat, answering the phone with a gruff, “Nydoorin Motors, how can I help you?”

“Are you open?”

It takes a second for Yasha to recognize the voice, but when she does she silently curses the gods on their terrible timing.

“Yes,” Yasha responds softly, clutching the phone tightly in her hand.

“Oh, I thought…” Beau trails off, sighing softly. “Look, man, I’m having a problem with my bike.”

“Another one?” Yasha stands up, pacing a bit. “What kind of problem?”

“I don’t-” Beau sighs again. “It’s like, you know, the gas or something.”

“The gas?”

“Or something. Yeah. Like, it won’t start and I’m thinking the fuel tank might have sprung a leak or some shit.”

“Do you smell gas?”

Beau pauses for a brief few seconds before saying, “Yeah. Yeah, sure. I smell gas. So like, maybe when I drove it home something cracked the fuel line…”

“I thought you said fuel tank.”

Another pause, a soft swear, and Beau quickly says, “Yeah, yeah that’s what I meant. Fuel tank. Can I bring it in?”

Yasha looks around the empty lobby knowing the only job she has is the engine trouble in the back; she can probably squeeze Beau in today.

“Yeah, sure, bring it in.”

“Sweet. I’ll be there soon.” There’s a third pause before Yasha hears a muttered, “-ish.” The line goes dead a moment later and Yasha hits end on the cordless, setting it down on the desk. She heads into the back, trying not to acknowledge the fact that she’s almost looking forward to seeing Beau again.

* * *

Jester rides on the back of the cart, her arms spread wide, trusting Fjord to keep a steady pace so she doesn’t fall onto the floor. Caleb trails behind them, periodically checking his list, trying to remember how much money he has in his pocket. He hadn’t had a chance to count his change when Jester showed up, but he thinks he has about thirty-five dollars. He should be able to get everything on this list if he gets the off brand stuff. Hopefully.

“Fjord stop!” Jester exclaims, jumping off the cart. She paces the aisle, tapping her chin thoughtfully, muttering to herself.

“Uh,” Caleb starts, leaning over so only Fjord can hear him, “does she do this often?”

“Yep,” Fjord replies with a tired sigh.

“What exactly is she doing?”

“Probably gonna get us kicked out of the grocery store again.”

“Again?”

Fjord looks over at Caleb, giving him a tired smile. “Yeah, again.” He nods his head towards the other end of the aisle and says, “Let’s just leave her here. She’ll find us.”

“Alright.”

They end up in the next aisle over, among the bread and the cereal. Caleb folds his list in half, unfolds it, and folds it again. He crinkles the page in his hand, searching for something to say. “This is a lot smaller than I thought,” he starts, gesturing vaguely around the aisle. “This grocery store. I’m used to the bigger places, the chains and stuff, and hadn’t thought the smaller stores were still open. It’s nice. Less variety, but it’s a lot less crowded.” He curses himself for his mindless rambling, willing himself to shut up.

Caleb expects Fjord to make a crude comment about his lack of social skills, but he surprises Caleb by saying, “It’s a nice place. They usually have half-priced Tuesdays, mostly the stuff they haven’t sold over the weekend. Their deliveries come in on Wednesdays, so…” he trails off, pushing the cart forward. “It’s a nice place.”

They fall into a comfortable silence, Fjord idly pushing the cart while Caleb adds things to the basket, using his cheap bic to cross off items from his list. Sometimes he’ll take a minute to compare prices, and he waits for Fjord to get impatient with him, but he never says a word. It’s nice.

“Jester lied, you know, about the shopping thing,” Fjord admits, breaking their long silence.

Caleb nods, amused. “I had a feeling.”

“I haven’t figured out why she wanted me out of the house. She probably thinks I don’t get out enough, but it’s hard to find the time when I work two jobs.”

“Oh? What do you do?” Caleb spares Fjord a curious look, letting him know he’s actively listening even as he searches the shelves for food.

“I work construction during the week, tend bar on the weekends.” He reaches up, rubbing the back of his head, a sheepish smile crossing his face. “You’d think, living on a houseboat I’d have less expenses, but it’s ridiculously expensive to rent dock space. Not to mention heating and electricity and insurance. And I kinda gotta eat and stuff.” He shrugs, chewing on his bottom lip. “I make do, you know.”

“Ja, ja I know,” Caleb murmurs, picking up a random item. He looks down at it for a bit, not really seeing what he’s holding, and slowly puts it back, giving Fjord a kind smile when he looks back at him. He almost tells Fjord about the hard times he and Nott are currently going through, but decides it’s not worth it.

Fjord moves forward, Caleb trailing behind him, and curiously asks, “What about you? What do you do?”

“Oh! I, I work at the library.”

“Have you worked there long?”

Caleb shrugs, folding his list again. “Not long. A few weeks. I enjoy the work, but I have a problem with the socializing.” He unfolds his list, noticing the paper starting to tear, and shoves it in his pocket. “I am trying.”

Fjord grins, reaching out to clap Caleb on the shoulder. “That’s all anyone can do, man.”

Caleb sees the hand coming and casually moves out of the way, reaching for a random bottle of soda. He notices Fjord frown, his hand still hanging in the air, and he holds the bottle up. “I am sorry. Nott likes this stuff.”

Fjord’s eyes narrow for a second but his expression clears a moment later and he shrugs. “It’s a decent brand of soda.”

“Ja, she really likes it.” She really doesn’t, but someone will drink it. Most likely Caleb. He doesn’t even know if he can afford the beverage, but he adds it to the cart anyway. “Shall we continue.”

“Sure.” Fjord keeps pace with Caleb. “So, that accent? Where are you from?”

“I am from a small town near Rexxentrum. In the north,” Caleb says slowly, crossing his arms. “I haven’t been there in over a decade.”

“Why not?”

He burrows into his coat, shrugging, giving Fjord a sad smile. “Circumstances. It is not important. Where are you from?”

“Uh, Port Damali. It’s on the Menagerie Coast. Further west. It’s nice, around where Jester grew up.”

“So you’ve known Jester a while?”

“What? Oh, no, we met when I moved here. She and Beau needed a lift, I offered them a ride.” He grins at the memory. “Beau threatened to cut my dick off it I did anything weird.”

“Do you think she would have?”

“Oh yeah. Definitely.”

“I do not know her well, but I feel inclined to agree.”

They share an amused look, moving further down the aisle, stopping when they hear Jester hurrying towards them, giggling. She stops next to Fjord, trying to compose herself, fails, and giggles again.

“What’d you do?” Fjord asks suspiciously.

“Noooothing.” She looks around Fjord, cutting off his next question with an excited, “OH! Hi, Molly!”

“Well, isn’t this a surprise.”

Caleb stiffens, slowly turning around, watching as Mollymauk walks towards them, pushing a cart full of booze and finger foods. He’s wearing a very ostentatious coat, the sequins and his many piercings jingling as he moves, his tattoos visible even from this far away. More than a few heads turn when he walks by, but he ignores them all, his attention on Fjord, Jester, and Caleb.

“I’ve never seen a group of people more in need of a good time.” He grins, flourishing his wrist, and says, “Alas, I am here to give you that.”

“How do you know we weren’t already having a good time,” Fjord retorts with an amused smirk.

“Oh, dear, I know.” He winks at Fjord, turning his attention to Jester. “I saw your friend request on Facebook.”

Jester’s eyes widen and she nods frantically. “Did you accept it?”

“What do you think?”

“I think you did.”

“And you would be right.”

Jester claps. “Yay!”

“I noticed you have a lot of posts about your cat.”

“My cat?” Jester is confused for a few seconds but realization hits her quickly. “Oh no, that’s Caleb’s cat.” She grabs Caleb, who had been trying to hide behind Fjord, and drags him forward. “Tell him about Lumpy.”

“His, his name is actually Frumpkin,” Caleb mutters, his eyes on Molly’s shoulder.

“That’s an interesting name,” Molly says kindly, and Caleb can see his fond smile out of the corner of his eye.

“He’s an interesting cat.”

“I bet he is.” He stares at Caleb for a few more seconds before turning his attention to Fjord and Jester again. “I’ve been meaning to post this on Facebook, but since you’re here I might as well ask. Are you doing anything next weekend?”

“Workin’ probably,” Fjord responds with a shrug.

“Currently my only plan is to steal Caleb’s cat,” Jester says beaming, digging her elbow into Caleb’s side to show she’s only joking. Probably. “Why?”

“I’m having a Halloween party next Saturday.”

“Wasn’t Halloween a week ago?” Fjord asks, his brow furrowing as he counts days. “Yeah, it was a week ago.”

“Yasha and I were swamped that night. Plus, who has a party on a Wednesday? I may be tacky, but I’m not that tacky.”

“That’s tacky?” Caleb mutters but no one pays him any attention.

“Plus, Gustav will be in town next weekend and what better reason to celebrate." He looks pensive for a moment, tapping his chin. "I should probably let Yasha know Gustav will be staying with us. I don’t think I told her.”

“Uh, Gustav?” Fjord shares a curious look with Jester. “Brother?”

“Lover?” Jester supplies with a dirty smile, wiggling her body.

“Neither,” Molly responds with an easy shrug. “He practically raised Yasha and me. So, father? I guess?”

“Oh.” Jester sucks in a breath between her teeth, scrunching her shoulders up. “Sorry.”

“No worries.” Molly claps his hands once, perking up. “So, if you’d like to come I don’t live too far from Bryce. Do you know them?”

“Oh yes,” Jester responds nodding, and Fjord nods too. Caleb shakes his head, already shuffling behind Fjord again. “We’ve been there a few times.”

“They are also invited, if you see them. So is your loud friend. Beau? The theme is the 1980’s.” He checks his phone, the glittery case catching Jester’s attention, and he starts at the time. “I have to be going. If I don’t see you before the party, I hope to see you there. Bye bye.” He walks away, disappearing around the corner, and Fjord shakes his head.

“Soooo,” Jester starts, looking between Fjord and Caleb. “Wanna go to a party next weekend?”


End file.
